


Stellar

by BWaves



Series: Joy and Owen [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, Bad Dreams, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, amputee character, lots of comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 19:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15177449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BWaves/pseuds/BWaves
Summary: Owen's anxiety acts up, and Joy handles it to the best of his abilities.





	Stellar

Owen knows it’s going to be a bad day the moment he wakes up. He feels like he’s detached from his body and he doesn’t want to move, ever. He lays in bed and he listens to his alarm blare on as his lungs push and pull air simply out of habit. His arms feel heavy and his chest aches in ways he wishes other people could understand. His eyes mindlessly roam the ceiling and he swallows hard, before finally moving his arm, sluggishly, over to turn off his alarm. He stares at the light up numbers, and in that moment he makes a conscious decision to roll over and go back to sleep.

He wakes up again a few hours later, his stomach aching, and his head feeling like it’s full of fog. He breathes soft and quiet, and he presses a hand to his stomach, feeling the rough rumbling as his body complains of hunger. He rolls over to check the time. It’s been a couple of hours since he woke up earlier. He rolls over, and he ignores the blooming pain of an empty stomach, and he goes back to sleep.

A loud bang echoes through the house and through Owen’s mind, and he’s never been out of bed faster. He falls as he rolls off his mattress, and he scrambles to his feet, suddenly more awake than he’s ever been, it feels. He rushes to get his bed straightened out, and he unlocks his door, and he sits down hard at his desk, grabbing a textbook and opening it to a random page. He grabs a notebook, flips it open, realizes it’s the wrong one, and he pushes it aside to grab another, the correct one this time. He grabs a pen and he does his best to make it look like he’s been at this for a while. 

His heart beats hard as footsteps work their way down the hall. The door across opens, and Owen listens to his father grumble to his younger brother for a few minutes before the door closes, and the footsteps pick up just long enough to cross the hall. Owen’s door opens and he turns a little to look over his shoulder at his father, standing in the doorway, silent. Owen offers up a slow nod of greeting, and gets one in return. The silence drags on, so Owen turns back to his notebook and his textbook. He starts reading and taking notes, and studying, like he’s expected to.

His dad doesn’t move, not that Owen can hear at least. He just keeps studying in silence until his stomach groans again. He stares at his page for a moment, he turns his pencil in his hands and he glances back to see his dad still standing there in the doorway. He could just ignore it, but his stomach really does hurt. He twists his pencil a few times before he finally stands up, he turns to see his dad staring at him.

Owen casually mentions that he’s going to get food, but as he walks toward the door the man never moves, and they’re left standing there, Owen wanting to go out, and his father blocking the path.

He opens his mouth to say something, but it never comes out. He wrings a hand behind his back and he gestures toward the door, “Excuse me.” His eyes are downcast, watching the man’s shoes, so he doesn’t see the hand until it’s grabbed his hair. Owen stumbles a bit under the grip, and he’s backed against the wall. He looks up to the man and he still hasn’t said anything. Owen knows it’s uncharacteristic, he knows it’s wrong, but he can’t quite pin what’s wrong with it.

He isn’t expecting the voice he does hear through the scraping sounds of pain that cloud his perception, it’s certainly not his dad, but it isn’t his brother either.

“Owen!” He flinches, he closes his eyes and he grits his teeth against phantom pains that wrack his body, “Owen, Owen, breathe, please,” he opens his eyes again and he’s alone, his room is empty, and cold, and he heaves breaths as he tries to make sense of it. “Owen, wake up!”

He jerks hard, bolting upright in bed arms flying out to guard himself. He hears a harsh cracking sound, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, or the pained noises that come from Joy on the bed next to him. Owen breathes fast and he grabs at his own chest, pulling at his shirt, because suddenly it feels too tight, he grabs at the neck and he pulls until he hears stitches pop, and gentle hands grab his own.

His name rings in his ears and he looks up to see Joy now, blood dripping from his nose down his lip, and the sight of it makes Owen’s stomach roll, and his vision go blurry. He can feel himself talking, but he isn’t sure what he’s saying. Joy vanishes and Owen grabs weakly at the space where he was sitting until he returns, one hand holding a tissue to his face, while the other touches Owen’s shoulders, and guides him to lay down again.

It takes time, and Joy has to go and wash his face, but slowly Owen’s body and mind calm, and he’s left there, lying in a cold sweat, with tears and snot all over his face, and he doesn’t remember why he was even having a panic attack in the first place. 

It doesn’t seem to matter that he can’t recall. Joy doesn’t ask. Joy just brings him water, and comforts him. Owen notices he’s put his legs on, despite it being three in the morning, and there being a very real chance he will have to take them off to go back to sleep. Joy sits on the edge of the bed and he brushes little bits of brown hair off of Owen’s sweat-sticky forehead. He murmurs words of comfort even once Owen has calmed down a bit. Owen grabs loosely at his shirt, until Joy grabs his hand instead, and holds it tightly.

Owen struggles for words for a while, but Joy fills the silence. He handles it well. When Owen does get the strength to talk, he just thanks him. He holds Joy’s hand and he breathes until sleep takes him again.

 

A real alarm wakes Owen in the morning, but he doesn’t move right away, there’s a weight on his chest that he’s hesitant to get rid of. He reaches as far as he can to turn off the alarm, and he manages to do it without disturbing Joy, sleeping with his cheek on Owen’s heart. It takes his breath away for a moment, in a good way. Joy’s prosthetics are off again, must have ditched them once Owen fell asleep again. He’s pressed against him completely, his thighs around one of Owen’s legs, one arm tucked between their bodies, and the other across Owen’s chest.

He’s never been more comfortable in his life. Owen gently brushes some of Joy’s hair back, and he frowns when he sees the little remnants of blood from his nose last night. It’s dry, Owen can handle that, but he still has to force his focus. He focuses instead on the way Joy breathes, the way his fingers rest, just slightly curled on Owen’s chest. His hair is cute, and messy, splaying out where Joy’s head rests, and Owen finds himself staring until Joy finally stirs. He wakes with a gentle start, and Owen watches him sit up, rub his face, and then wince. With him sat up, Owen can see the bruising on his face. He must have hit him pretty hard.

Joy prods at his nose, but he doesn’t make much noise beyond the initial hiss, he seems to determine it isn’t broken, and he slouches a little bit, looking down to Owen’s chest before his eyes finally travel up to his face. “You’re awake.” Owen nods, “How did you sleep? The second time.”

“Fine.” Owen’s voice is weak, but he knows that will pass with time. And water. He needs more water.

“You sounds thirsty,” Joy says, his voice soft, and unfamiliar and so gentle. Joy touches Owen’s chest in a gesture that seems to say ‘stay here’. “I’ll get you some water, if you don’t mind it taking a little longer.” He scoots to the end of the bed, where his prosthetics are propped against a table, and Owen silently watches as he pulls on the individual layers, until finally he pulls on the pegs, and then the prosthetics themselves. He watches as he stands, and finds his balance and Owen watches him leave. The sink turns on, the water runs for a moment, and Joy hums loudly to himself until he returns, offering Owen the drink.

“Thanks.” Owen sits up, and takes the cup, sipping the water. Joy’s face is clean now, he must’ve taken a moment to wash it off while the water was running.

“We should stay here another day.” Joy toys with the hem of his shorts and Owen watches his fingers as they pinch and tug on the fabric, going back and forth between revealing more skin, and hiding more. Owen watches the fabric until Joy touches his shoulder, and brings him back to the matter at hand.

“Oh. Uh. Sure, yeah, we can do that. Was there something else you wanted to see?”

Joy shakes his head a little, “No. I just think we could use a day off, how does that sound?” He looks hopeful, he wants this, although probably not for himself, he probably wants this because he wants Owen to rest, and honestly, Owen can’t think of any reason to say no. He’s exhausted.

“Okay. Sounds good. If you do come up with something you wanna do, though, just... “

“It’s okay. I think we could both use a day of not being in the car.” Joy smiles, and Owen’s breath catches again. He nods in agreement, and he finishes his water. He holds the cup toward Joy, and before he’s even had a chance to ask for a refill, the cup is already gone, leaving the room in Joy’s hands.

Owen watches him in the mirror that hangs on the wall by the bathroom door. He watches how Joy’s smile never fades, and he watches how his hands move, and he’s struck for a moment. He swallows, he grabs his own shirt, in front of his heart, and he silently urges his heart to calm down. He watches Joy come back and give him the fresh water, and then Joy climbs back into bed, laying down and stretching out, near Owen, but not nearly as close as before. Owen sips his water as Joy turns on the television, he watches as the other settles in to get comfy, but he doesn’t take off his prosthetics.

It takes a while to build his courage, mostly just reminding himself that he’s fine, this happens, he knows he’s acting weird. He reminds himself how he should be, which is totally relaxed, to the point that asking a guy to cuddle shouldn’t be difficult.

“Hey, Joy?”

“Hmm?”

“When we woke up, you were, uh-”

“Oh! Yeah, I’m sorry, about the cuddling and shit.” Joy looks sheepish, averting his gaze and looking specifically anywhere but in Owen’s direction, “You fell back asleep, but you were really restless, unless I was, like, right there. I figured that maybe you were kind of, subconsciously, in need of some warm body to hold, so I didn’t mind being the warm body. You definitely slept better after that. Sorry if it’s weird.” He laughs nervously, and Owen reaches over to touch his hand, where it rests on the tacky bedspread.

“No, it’s okay. I was actually wondering if, you, maybe, uh wanted to… Do it more?” Owen winces at his own words, but it’s too late to take them back now. He watches Joy as he turns to meet Owen’s eyes, and Owen tries to keep himself steadfast as Joy seems to have to think about it.

Joy looks down at his legs, and then back to Owen, then to the bathroom, “I mean, we can, but I have to take off my legs, and then I won’t be able to go get-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Owen shakes his head, “I’ll be fine, if we need anything, I can get it.” He carefully turns his hand so that he’s holding Joy’s, he doesn’t say anything, he just hopes that his plea gets through with his eyes.

Joy watches him, assesses the situation, and then nods. “Okay.” He squeezes Owen’s hand, and scoots back to the edge of the bed. He takes his prosthetics back off, and props them against a table, and he returns to Owen. He makes quick work, returning to the position he was in before, except with Owen awake he’s able to wrap his arms around Joy and hold him in return. Silence falls in the room, aside from the television, and it’s comfortable. Owen holds Joy until the small brunette falls asleep, and he watches him as he rests.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this and you'd like to see more, go check out joyandowen.tumblr.com where I am taking asks and requests involving these two boys.


End file.
